


Well, this is a turn up isn't it Derek?

by Pyjamagurl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyjamagurl/pseuds/Pyjamagurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss doesn't happen as Stiles imagined it would. Not that Stiles has been imagining their first kiss...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, this is a turn up isn't it Derek?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/gifts).



> Written for entangled_now as a kind of 'write 50-250 words of their first kiss' meme thing, as you can see I've quadrupled that word count because short doesn't seem to be in my vocabulary. The title is lame, I know, my bad. 
> 
> And now, having dipped my toes into the Stiles/Derek waters I rather want to write more ^___^

It does not happen as Stiles imagined it would. Not that Stiles has been imagining Derek slamming him against the wall (which he does, often) and kissing him which he doesn’t do, at all). Much. 

Stiles hadn’t wanted to go to Derek’s anyway. His fear of Derek is by no means tempered by the fact that he is now Scott’s alpha. Derek just has an air of mysteriousness about him, a brooding gruffness that makes the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck rise and his heartbeat stutter just a bit from what he is completely sure isn’t the kind of fear Scott thinks it is. Which is also his fault. It’s not like Stiles has told Scott that the reason he’s afraid of Derek is that he’s causing a bit of a sexuality crisis. Well, one of the reasons. Derek is a scary guy. 

However, Scott had whined and cajoled until Stiles had agreed to drive him to the Hale house—Stiles had grumbled that Allison was more than capable of taking Scott, but Scott had said that he didn’t want Allison to know about this particular conversation, and besides Allison is currently under close supervision by her parents for ‘fraternising with werewolves’. Stiles is pretty sure his dad would stroke out if he knew about the werewolves. Let the man go on thinking that mountain lions were the cause of all the current upset. It is safer, really.

What Stiles hadn’t been expecting, though, was for Scott to storm off into the forest after Jackson—after a stern urging from Derek (read; a flash of red eyes and a growl that made Stiles’ stomach do a weird sort of flip flop)—leaving Stiles very alone with a certain gruff Alpha werewolf. 

Stiles clears his throat, hoping beyond hope that Derek can’t hear his heart speeding up—futile—or sense his hands growing moist or whatever else other magical sensing powers the werewolf might have. Derek looks at him strangely though, the frown on his face not one of irritation or anger, but one of puzzlement and question.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Derek asks, swinging the front door shut. Stiles tries not to notice that there is a decidedly rotten bit of burnt black wood that wobbles when the door closes. This house is pathetic really. Any man who can afford a camaro can surely afford to stay somewhere better than this. 

Sentiment, Stiles supposes. It’s the last remnant Derek has of his family, a bitter reminder of all he has lost. And Stiles knows all too well about holding onto things regardless of state of disrepair. 

‘Nothing,’ Stiles says after a moment. Damnit. His voice sounds a good few octaves above what it normally does, and even on Adderall Stiles isn’t usually this highly strung. Derek cocks an eyebrow at that. 

‘Hm,’ Derek grunts.

‘Maybe I should…er…’ Stiles stops, finding himself staring right into a pair of very blue eyes. ‘Go. Um. Scott can…I guess Jackson could take him home.’

‘Stiles,’ Derek says, and he takes a step closer, that look of puzzlement still there like he’s trying to work out just what makes Stiles tick. 

‘Or, not, y’know…’

Stiles is backed up against the wall to what was once the lounge, he doesn’t quite remember reversing but he feels the wood creak behind him and a plume of dust filters into the air when Derek slams a hand rather forcefully above Stiles’ head, And okay, this is weird. 

Stiles has had Derek this close before, their noses mere inches apart, he’s had this fear before, this thrum of adrenaline rushing through his blood as Derek stands too close, but Derek has a strange look on his face. Derek’s eyes flit over Stiles’ face and Stiles has no idea what Derek is seeing there, but the next thing he knows there are a pair of warm lips pressed up against his own. 

Stiles is suddenly painfully aware that he has never kissed anyone before, not really. There was that time once, at Danny’s eleventh birthday party where they had played spin the bottle and he had had to kiss Stacey Meyer but that had been a peck on the lips. Derek seems completely oblivious and only presses himself in closer to Stiles.

Stiles gasps when Derek slides his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, sucking in much needed air before he kisses Derek back with what he can only hope is the same kind of skilled fervour that Derek is kissing him. Because _oh my god_ Derek is a good kisser. It’s like whatever ridiculous fantasies Stiles’ might have had about Lydia once upon a time pale in comparison to what Derek’s skilled tongue can do. 

Stiles tugs at Derek’s bottom lip with his teeth, and there is definitely a whine of sound that definitely did not originate from Stiles, and hell if that doesn’t make Stiles’ heart thud faster and a grin spread impossibly across his face. 

Derek jerks back, scowling in a new way that is clearly exasperation, and Stiles can only smirk back goofily for now because he just made Derek _freaking_ Hale whine in pleasure. Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles grabs a handful of leather jacket and tugs Derek in again, kissing him with a confidence he didn’t even realise he had, smiling into it when Derek scrapes his fingers through Stiles’ short bristly hair. 

‘Derek—’

‘I found him,’ Scott’s voice interrupts all of a sudden. The front door batters off the wall as he throws it back. ‘He was—’

Scott stops in the middle of the hallway, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he looks up to see Stiles and Derek pressed up against the wall. Jackson careens into the back of him. 

‘Watch where you’re going, asshole,’ Jackson mutters, shoving Scott forward. He smirks as Scott stumbles forward and then catches sight of Derek and Stiles. His eyebrows rise towards his hairline.

‘Hey,’ Stiles says, and it sounds rather choked to Stiles’ ears. Derek, suddenly coming to his senses, leaps back from Stiles as though he has been burned and fixes Jackson with what Stiles likes to call his ‘I am going to tear your throat out and I will enjoy it’ look. 

‘Fucking finally,’ Jackson mutters, ignoring Stiles’ bewildered expression and Derek’s scowl. ‘Now that you two are done dancing around one another, can we get on with this stupid lesson?’

‘I…I think I should just go home,’ Stiles says, suddenly finding the floorboards very interesting indeed. 

‘Stay,’ Derek says, and Stiles looks up at him in surprise, spared with a fleeting smile before Derek turns his attention back to his betas. 

And okay, Stiles’ stays, even if he really doesn’t need to be there for this. In fact, if asked, he couldn't even tell you what the "lesson" is about, but there’s the promise of more making out at the end of it, and when Jackson grudgingly agrees to take Scott home at the behest of Derek, Stiles quickly discovers that that promise is most definitely kept.


End file.
